Take the Stage
by Daerunia
Summary: Wyatt Castillo just wanted to earn a little respect. Stuck in a rut, this out-of-luck guy lacks the drive to try and rise up to his grandfather's expectations and is prepared to live out his life as a mediocre nobody. When he's suddenly thrust out of his comfort zone and into Galactic-infested Sinnoh alone, he's finding that maybe spinning his wheels in Sunyshore wasn't so bad. OC.


**Take the Stage**

_**Chapter One: **__"Hey Man, Nice Boat!"_

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_**A/N: So, this is a fic I've redone in many different ways, with the main character switching between many before I decided to make it based around what used to be the most un-interesting of my characters. I used to think the more a character had right from the bat, the better they were. My experiences have shown me that taking someone who has nothing and going somewhere with them tends to make them a lot more interesting. Our protagonist is pretty worldly and not very good at living up to people's expectations. For example, if you find him making a decision that you think is completely dumb or you can't understand his reasoning at times, it's part of his character, so don't think that you're missing something. Anyways, hopefully I can get it right this time; it's been a whiiiiile since I've written anything Pokemon related. Cheers! **_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon. **_

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'_I hate this tourist trap'._

Long, tanned arms spread out against golden sand as a lanky boy in his late teens lay on his back, chocolate orbs closed against the brightness of the setting sun. Though the expanse of beach still held many surfers and families alike that gave the spread-eagled boy a wide berth, he didn't seem to care what the others thought of him. Blond locks, perpetually messy and badly bleached from the rays of the summer's sun, were catching sand that would no doubt find its way down his shirt and into his clothing. He was dressed in loose-fitting basketball shorts and a plain white t-shirt, stained with sweat from the heat. Oddly, he wore his socks and sneakers, despite the sand being a little friendlier to flip-flops or bare feet.

A child pulled free of her mother's grip and ran past, stumbling over the male's right arm though the child merely continued running onwards. The mother seemed to pause and consider apologizing, but rushed past the seemingly unconscious lad without further hesitation.

This boy without hope or care, this beach-going slacker laying in the way, goes by the name Wyatt Castillo. Resting in the palm of hand was a small white Pokéball, reduced to the size of a walnut. Inside rests his closest friend, his pet, his most loyal companion; an unconscious Shinx that was becoming all too familiar with the bitter sting of failure.

They had, once again, challenged the Sunyshore Gym leader. In a matter of mere minutes Wyatt had lost, his companion crippling under the power of Volkner's Luxio. It was amazing how there could be such a difference in strength, considering that both cubs had come from the same litter. The sting was even more painful, knowing that Volkner's most powerful ally had descended from Wyatt's own grandfather's Pokémon, a Luxray properly named Queen that trashed Gym Leaders in her hey-day. Both Queen and Wyatt's grandfather were long gone, but their wills continued to live on. Unfortunately, they didn't seem to live on in Wyatt or the Shinx that he had picked from her litter, but instead in the genius neighbor kid that had a lot more potential than Wyatt.

Volkner, who was three years ahead of Wyatt in school, had been known as a prodigy. He was expected to accomplish amazing things and certainly had done so, whereas Wyatt had tried his hardest to befriend him. The older boy had never been outright rude, but it was clear that he didn't really see Wyatt as someone he could consider a friend or even a rival. Wyatt, over the years, watched in frustration as Volkner accomplished feat after feat; he easily impressed Wyatt's grandfather, an architect, with his keen eye for design and functionality. He was chased after by a girl that Wyatt had been crushing on for most of his high school career, taking her to prom despite not really seeing her as more than a friend. Wyatt lost interest in her after that. Volkner had even made a best friend and rival out of Flint, another older boy with a similar ambition and competitive drive as Wyatt. Apparently, there was something more interesting about Flint that Volkner didn't see in Wyatt. Could he tell, even back then, that Wyatt was going to be a good-for-nothing trainer and C-average student? Maybe his grandfather had, too.

Though his eyes remained closed, still Wyatt's eyebrows lowered into a grimace of distaste. He pushed himself up on his elbows, shaking the sand from his hair as the red-and-white sphere tumbled once across the sand, rolling gently from his fingers. "I hate feeling stuck and depressed." He also hated, as he suddenly realized, his beach boy accent that he had picked up from the Sunyshore lifestyle. It was just another reminder of how he was spinning his wheels, getting nowhere fast in this place where others came to bask in the sun. Tourists came by to stop living, but did they even consider how awful it must feel to live like that forever?

"I… aye, _ahhh_… _Ahh'm gonna get outta this hellhole._" Talking aloud to himself, Wyatt opened his mouth wide and did his best impression of a loose, southern Kanto drawl. It sounded decent to himself, but anyone from Kanto would clearly think it was over exaggerated. Either way, it was better than the same tone and accent that he had become tired of hearing for his whole life. Strange how it hadn't bothered him until now. He merely shook his head, deciding that right now, the way he talked was of least concern. Chocolate orbs swept across the sandy naze and towards the docks a good distance away, where a weathered fishing boat lapped against the planks. Abdentmindedly, he pocketed Shinx's Pokeball with a plan brewing.

He felt drawn towards it, sneaker-clad feet moving as he thought to himself. He had nothing with him but the clothes on his back, Shinx, and his wallet that held a meager amount of money, but the idea of slipping away as a nobody and then coming back as a well known-trainer sounded tempting. He could take the boat, make his way around the coast to Sandgem, have his license updated by the Professor, and enter the Sinnoh Gym Circuit. It was easy to picture: a team full of strong Pokémon, a crowded wallet, envious eyes of men that wanted to be him, beautiful girls that didn't like him before wanting to be **with** him. It would be hard work, but there was nothing for him here, was there?

'_You can't even operate a boat_,' the more sensible side of his brain argued, but that quiet nuisance was blotted out by a loud, wheezing cough from behind him.

"You got yerself a starin' problem, surfer boy?"

Wyatt whipped around and staggered backwards , his heel hitting the first board where the docks met the sand of the beach. Standing directly behind him and coming up to only his shoulder stood a ragged older man with a sunburnt face and straggling brown hair extending from beneath a floppy fishing hat. Sharp black eyes only watched as the teenager regained his balance and caught his breath; a crumpled but still lit cigarette bobbed from the old man's extended bottom lip. "Hey man," Wyatt stumbled over his words, face reddening slightly. "Nice boat."

Compliment denied. "Tell me sumthin.' What business do ya have over here? This's a private dock, I'll have ye know."

"I didn't know that." Wyatt breathed a sigh, feeling his spirits sink while another part of him felt some form of relief. It was as if he had been in a trance. He was afraid to go, afraid of the unknown. But then again, he needed to get away. If he didn't take this chance now, he never would be able to get up the nerve to jump again. "I was wondering. How much would you charge to take me around to Sandgem Town?"

The old man laughed, tilting his head back as if Wyatt has said the funniest thing in the world. "Sandgem Town? Does this look like a ferry to ye, my boy? The sun's rays done got to yer head! This boat don't travel but out a mile at best, you'd be better off ridin' on a Pokémon."

"I don't have a Pokémon I can ride on, and I don't have a way to catch the wild water Pokémon around here. They hardly ever come inland enough."

"Sounds to me like you've got a personal problem there, sonny." The man blew out a small ring of strong-smelling smoke, tapping his ashes into the sand. "I've got a Pokémon that could take ya, but I couldn't trust a stranger to take 'im that far and not steal 'im."

"Is it something that I could catch around here?" Wyatt was only a hair's breadth from groaning in annoyance.

"Oh, no no no. He's a rare one that helps me with my fishin'. Can't even find 'em outside of Unova, they don't migrate around these colder parts. Sinnoh's mostly cold, on account of the mountains, ya know."

"Yes, I know. Look, I would be willing to-…"

"Course, I could maybe strike a deal up with ya!" The old man interrupted Wyatt, his mouth curving up into a grin. "We could make a small trade, jus' to be on the safe side. If I have my Pokémon teleport you to Sandgem Town, I'll need to know that yer trustworthy. So what do you say, boy?"

Something seemed fishy, and it had nothing to do with the fishing boat at all. Wyatt wasn't the most keen individual, but he liked to think he could spot a scam when he smelled one. It wasn't possible that this old man just _happened _to be there at that moment and just _happened _to have a Psychic Pokémon that would get him to where he wanted in no time flat. Was Arceus taunting him? Was this still part of his imagination, the part that yearned for fame and recognition? He needed to think for a while. He had just finished school, maybe he could get a cashier job at the market, earn a little cash…

"Actually, on second thought, I changed my mind. Thank you for your time, dude." Annoyed and somewhat put-off, Wyatt nudged past the man and started to head back up the shore closer to his home, but the familiar sound of a Pokémon emerging from its Pokéball caused him to hesitate. Was it worth it to turn around, or should he run? Something was off, his racing heart told him. Something was very off. With nerves bundled at his throat, he slowly turned his head, peering over his shoulder with his right eye as he resumed a quicker pace.

He only caught the smallest glimpse of something green out of the corner of his eye before his back erupted into pain, sending him sprawling onto his stomach. All he could do was subconsciously blurt, "what the hell?!" Quickly he rolled to his back, propping himself up on his elbows just as a strange, gel-like Pokémon moved well out of his range. Inside of its gelatinous cell wall, it leafed through his wallet and pulled out his bank card, tossing the rest back at him with a shrill cry. "H-hey, give that back!"

The same drawling voice of the fisher cawed loudly, dragging his feet through the sand towards the green Pokémon. "Is it so hard to accept hospitality, ya brat? Yer the one who came snoopin' around me, remember! It's not in Team Galactic's nature to help out folks, and here I was showin' you a streak of niceness!"

Wyatt squinted, his vision obscured by strange, moving blots of black and green from the pain in his back. His shirt almost felt heavy and wet, as if he were bleeding. "Team Galactic? What the hell is that?! What did that thing to do me?" Why didn't he just go home in the first place? Why on earth had he done this to himself? Idiot. Idiot, idiot, idiot. It was his destiny to play second banana, to be a faceless nobody. This had to be his punishment for dreaming. "Just stay the hell away from me!"

"Duosion, get him outta here! I'm tired of lookin' at his face. Let the little boy go to Sandgem Town if he wants, I'd like ta see him try and get by without a bit o' cash on him." As the man spoke, the Pokémon began to glow and rocketed towards Wyatt, who barely had time to let out a cry of surprise. He merely covered his eyes, waiting for some sort of mortal impact that would leave him crumpled and dead. There was a split second of weightlessness that caused his stomach to flip-flop just once, and then there was nothing.

* * *

Trembling, he peered between his fingers and saw white. White blanketed everything; homely shops, red-roofed homes that looked to be built from wood, towering evergreens that held pounds of snow upon their branches. Clearly, he wasn't in Sunyshore anymore.

He ached. Letting out a groan, Wyatt rolled to his knees and did his best to stand, wobbling from side to side as the world seemed to spiral at a sickening tilt. Steam puffed between his lips as if he were a coal engine, and then he realized that he truly _had_ been teleported somewhere in Southwest Sinnoh. He was cold. No, that wasn't quite it. He was **_freezing_**. As panic began to settle down deep within his tendons, he grabbed Shinx's Pokéball and pressed the button along the center. "Please come out," he whispered through drying lips, ignoring the way this Pokéball felt so cold and empty. Even as the bottom part of the machine flopped open and revealed that there was certainly no Shinx in there, he threw it at the snow and called for his partner again. Of course, it gave no response but silence, the split ball seeming to laugh at him from the snow.

'_I was mugged,'_ he tried to calm himself, rubbing at his face with numbed fingers to quell his trembling. _'I just need to get in contact with the police. Shut off my card, yeah. They can track down Shinx with my Trainer ID, simple. I just need to calm down, and everything… Everything will be totally….' _

It seemed impossible that it had all happened in the span of a few minutes. One second he was pouting about losing to a genius he had no business trying to show off in front of, and now he was penniless, Shinxless, and feeling as if he'd just spent ten rounds in the ring with a Hariyama. His back was now burning, feeling as if it were bleeding freely from whatever attack he had been hit with before being whisked away. _'Well, you wanted an adventure, didn't you? Moron!'_ The rational side of his consciousness scoffed at his stupidity as tears budded and began to fall freely.

"I screwed up big time," his voice broke the silence, lost to the howling of the cold spring wind.


End file.
